


you put me on and said i was your favourite

by snnycarisi



Category: If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio
Genre: Drunken Confessions, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, M/M, and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates), takes place in 3rd year before things are bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:47:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25606846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snnycarisi/pseuds/snnycarisi
Summary: James tried for a joke, but it came out a little breathless. Oliver wondered if that was just wishful thinking on his part, and perhaps he should be slowing down on the booze.Blushing almost to his roots, Oliver shoved the thought aside and reached for the wine bottle again, gulping it down.“They’re going to kick me out.” he said simply.
Relationships: James Farrow/Oliver Marks
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	you put me on and said i was your favourite

**Author's Note:**

> heyyyy back with another iwwv fic hope y'all aren't sick of me yet lol
> 
> title comes from cardigan by taylor swift (listen to folklore. there are Many james/oliver bops)

Downstairs the party raged on, but Oliver took no notice. The lower floor of the castle was packed to the brim with Dellecher’s eager theatre students, celebrating the opening of the third years’ winter play. The last play of their third year. The last play before the infamous purge of students, which Oliver was almost certain he would not survive. And as much as he wanted to have fun, to at least go out with a bang, the reminder that this was the _ last time _ ran so furiously through his thoughts, all he wanted was to be alone. 

So, slightly dizzy from the joint Alexander had shoved in his mouth as the party commenced, Oliver fled to the library in search of the good liquor hidden from the first and second years, snatching a bottle of pink wine Wren had bought for herself and retreated to his bedroom in the tower.

He sat down on the thin windowsill beside his bed and brought the bottle to his lips, shuddering at the sudden sweetness of the liquid. Staring out at the lake, mist floating above the dark water giving it a haunting quality, he realised over an hour had passed without anyone thinking to come looking for him, which only added to his pathetic self pity. Oliver leaned his warm cheek against the cool glass of the window and shut his eyes, willing himself not to cry.

Then suddenly the door creaked open, the noise of the party downstairs wafting in, and with it brought James. For a moment he just stood in the doorway not speaking or moving, possibly out of apprehension, or maybe it was just drunkenness slowing his movement. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” he asked while Oliver was still searching for something to say to break the silence. 

“Oh,” Oliver began sheepishly, suddenly embarrassed to admit that he'd come up here to sulk, “I just wasn’t feeling well. Wanted to get away from all the noise for a minute.” For an actor, he was particularly bad at lying (especially being intoxicated), but James thankfully didn’t pry. 

His eyes now having adjusted to the dim lighting of the room, James noticed the bottle in his hands and smirked. “Wren’s going to be really pissed with you when she realises it wasn’t the second years who’d taken that.” Oliver said nothing, just stared dumbly at his friend as he moved further into their shared room, closing the door behind him and perching next to Oliver on the windowsill. James reached for the wine bottle, which Oliver promptly gave up. Taking a long swig he added, “I’ll just have to help you get rid of the evidence.” 

And Oliver swore he felt his heart shatter just a little bit. Looking at James, his roommate, his greatest friend and companion, all he could see was all he was about to lose. 

He was dressed nicer than usual— a plum shirt tucked into dark corduroy trousers— making Oliver all the more aware of his body and the heat radiating from it. The way the shirt clung to James’ chest and arms made him feel a little silly in the huge green sweater he was wearing (a Christmas present from Pip he’d only worn to appease her) but also quickened his pulse and left his mouth feeling dry. Then his eyes landed on James’ shoes, which were the slightly dirty, beat up converse he wore almost everyday. This brought the tiniest smile to Oliver’s lips. 

“So are we going to talk about whatever’s got you hidden away up here or are you just going to keep looking at my feet?” James tried for a joke, but it came out a little breathless. Oliver wondered if that was just wishful thinking on his part, and perhaps he should be slowing down on the booze. 

Blushing almost to his roots, Oliver shoved the thought aside and reached for the bottle again, gulping it down. 

“They’re going to kick me out.” he said simply. 

“Rubbish.” 

“James, please.”

“No, really Oliver, that’s ridiculous. Has anyone told you you’re being cut, or are you just assuming?” Oliver looked up into his eyes and saw something so ferocious, it took him aback. It was as if there were some beast inside him, just waiting for the chance to come out and greet the world. 

Ignoring the question, Oliver continued. “I mean it. Out of all of us here, who do you think is most likely to be cut? It’s certainly not you, not Richard or Meredith either. Couldn’t be Alexander— no one can play wicked the way he can. Couldn’t be Wren either, no one else has that… sensitivity. What do I have?” 

James looked away and was silent for a moment, and Oliver realised he was genuinely angry. “You can’t think that way about yourself.” 

Feeling his own irritation grow, Oliver snapped, “Why not? It’s just the truth.”

“Oliver, you—” he paused mid sentence, his voice pained as he collected his thoughts, “you’re brilliant. I don’t understand why you can’t see that. When you’re on stage, you’re not trying to steal the attention for yourself, you’re not trying to make it about you when it’s unneeded. You work into the scene, you make everyone better. Everyone you just said, what would they be without you?”

Feeling scrutinized under James’ gaze which was now fixed firmly on Oliver’s face, he shrunk away and fiddled with the bottle in his hands, not really feeling like drinking it anymore. 

“You’re brilliant.” he added for good measure, softer this time, no longer hurt or angry (though Oliver still struggled to understand where these feelings came from). 

Oliver looked up and let himself take the sight of his friend in one more time. The way he sat was distinctly boyish, yet he was so undoubtedly in control of the space. James’ presence alone demanded attention for any room he walked into, this being no different. And it was all so effortless, Oliver was almost certain he had no idea he had this effect on people. 

“Not like you.” Oliver let slip, before he could think otherwise.

James just rolled his eyes. “You’re my Horatio. _ Thou art e'en as just a man  _

_ As e'er my conversation coped withal.”  _ his tone was dramatic and a little ridiculous, one he would usually use to make the other boy laugh, but this time neither of them were laughing. 

He reached for the wine bottle. Oliver passed it over and their fingers brushed ever so slightly. He swore he saw James shiver.

For once, he allowed himself to think of all the times he’d wanted to kiss James but hadn’t. All the times he’d thought about how glorious James’ soft pink lips would feel pressed against his own. The times he’d thought about James’ doe eyes falling shut, long eyelashes drawing over his Disney prince cheekbones as he got lost in emotion. All the times he’d stomped those thoughts deep down into his stomach and swallowed the butterflies that came with them. But it hardly mattered now. Although James’ speech had sufficiently stroked his ego, it still didn’t reassure him he was safe from the cut. If he was leaving soon anyway, why bother holding back? Soon there would be no friendship to potentially ruin, no classes made awkward. Besides, he thought, if he didn’t do this now, he would be haunted by ‘what if’s for the rest of his sorry life. He would never be able to forget someone like James, never. 

Slowly, Oliver inched closer, filling the space between them with a tension he could practically feel buzzing in the air around them. James’ eyes widened but he didn’t draw back, which Oliver took as a good sign. Their lips mashed together in a way that was neither graceful nor delicate (both were decently intoxicated and their depth perception was not up to code) but Oliver wouldn’t have had it any other way. He tasted the wine on James’ breath and inhaled the scent of his shampoo and let himself become utterly consumed with the other man. 

Not knowing what to do with his hands, Oliver curled one around James’ hip and left one to linger in the space between them. But James knew what to do, he always did. Any other time he might have laughed at his roommate’s awkwardness, but seemingly wrapped up in his own euphoria (at least, Oliver hoped that’s what it was) he instead took Oliver’s face into both of his hands and kissed him with all the affection that his words missed, leaving Oliver dizzy in a way he was sure was unrelated to the wine. 

Eventually, James pulled away but kept close enough that Oliver could still feel his breath tickle his skin. “You’re not going to leave, you’re staying right here.” As he said it, Oliver realised he was reassuring himself as much as anything. “I promise you.”

Weakly, Oliver replied, “you can’t promise that.”

“I can. And I will. If they make you leave I’m going with you, and I don’t think Fredrick would be particularly happy to lose me as well.” any amount of arrogance in this was softened by his earnest expression. “You’re not being cut.” they locked eyes once more, the gold ring around James’ iris’ consumed by the black of his blown pupils. Oliver wished he could live in this moment forever.

Not knowing what else to say, he replied dumbly, “okay.”

James seemed satisfied with this answer, and nodded, still cradling Oliver’s face in his palms. One hand stayed in place, his thumb now brushing over Oliver’s cheekbone, but the other roamed down his woolen front, pausing to toy with the hem of the ridiculous sweater. Oliver wanted out of it and as quickly as possible, but before he could ask or simply do it himself, there was a thunderous knocking at the door.

“Hey assholes,” Alexander’s very drunk voice came from the other side of the door, “everyone’s wondering where you are. Wrap up the slumber party and get the fuck down here.”

Chuckling, James dropped his head onto Oliver’s shoulder as Alexander presumably stumbled back downstairs. Despite everything, Oliver began to laugh too. Soon, they were holding each other and giggling like a pair of loons, laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, laughing to ease the insane amount of tension that had grown in the room, laughing for the sake of laughing. Oliver felt as if he might be losing his mind, but the weight of James’ head lay heavy on his shoulder and he could feel James’ soft skin at his hip where he still held on tight.

“We should go back down there before he comes back and knocks the door down,” James said once he had gotten ahold of himself. He sat up, and Oliver instantly missed his closeness, his warmth. It must have shown on his face, because James took his hand and kissed his palm. “Come on.” he said, dragging Oliver to his feet and leading him to the door.

Oliver was still unsure of what would happen next, and, if he let himself feel it, the anxiety would be all consuming. But right now, all he could think about was James’ hand in his, and for right now, that was enough. 

**Author's Note:**

> kudos and comments are much appreciated !
> 
> find me on twitter [here](https://https://twitter.com/PATTYURlS)


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